Chutes and Ladders
by SuperGlueSensation
Summary: Kyle moves back to South Park after five years. Some things have changed, other things have not. Of course, the most interesting things are the ones that have changed. This is particularly true of the people he's been separated from. Now wandering through South Park as a new kid that's not really a new kid, he struggles to find his footing and understand just where he fits in. K2
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I wanted to try something sort of AU-ish. I don't know how well this is going to work out. I hope it doesn't suck.**

**I do not own South Park. **

I turned the volume up on my mp3 player when I heard Ike launch into his new favorite rant campaign. This month's subject was actually a legitimate one. Well, for him at least. Shortly before sixth grade, my dad was offered a big position in some company in Denver. I guess they were pretty deep in some legal stuff and needed someone majorly skilled to get them out of it. Consequently, we moved to Denver.

"But I grew up here! All my friends are here! This is where... this is where my life is!" Ike's wail was loud enough to cut through my music. We'd been in Denver for almost five years. "You guys can't do this to me." Ike's tearful plea rang familiar. I'd argued the same thing when we left. I turned off my mp3 player and got up from the couch. I waited until mom and dad left in frustration before talking.

"Hey dude."

"What?" He muttered, wiping his eyes and nose.

"I wish we were staying too. South Park's a total shit hole, but you're not going to be able to talk them out of this. They don't need dad at the office anymore and the only place that's going to take him back after that mess is the firm in South Park." I put a hand on his shoulder, but he slapped it away.

"It's not fair! Why do we have to move around just because of dad's stupid job? He's a lawyer. He's supposed to stay in one place!" Ike sniffled for a while. Eventually he turned to hug me. I pulled him close. "So we're moving tomorrow?"

"Yep."

"God damnit."

It was weird to see South Park again. I think the weirdest thing about it was that hardly anything changed. I even wound up moving back in to my old room in my old house.

"Did you let your little friends know that you'd be coming back?" My mom asked between breaths as she and I struggled to carry my desk upstairs.

"Huh? Oh, no."

"Why not?" Her questioning was short because her breath was short too.

"We don't really talk that much." It's not that anything had happened. We just grew apart. After a while, there is only so much you can say to someone who is living a totally different life in a totally different place. You run out of things in common. Cartman and I fell out of contact first. Well, no, Kenny and I did since he didn't have a phone or computer that could get online worth shit. After a year or two, Stan and I stopped talking too.

"Isn't that a shame!" We dragged the desk into my room. "I'm sure that'll change right away. You'll be going to school with them again after all."

"How do you know that?" I took off my coat and tossed it onto my bed.

"There is only one high school in South Park, Bubbee."

"Oh yeah."

"Sheila?" My dad called from downstairs.

"What is it, Gerald?" The two went back and forth yelling ideas as to where the third drawer for dad's dresser could be before mom went downstairs to help look.

"Only one high school. Hm." I sorted through snow-dampened cardboard boxes to find and unpack everything. I couldn't get the thought out of my head that I'd be seeing everyone again. Stan and I had run into each other once at some baseball tournament, but we didn't say much other than that we'd get back in contact.

Even as I showered and got in to bed, I couldn't stop thinking about my three friends. For some reason, I was nervous as hell to see them all again. Mom said we'd get back to being friends in no time, but was she telling the truth?

Walking through the doors of South Park High was one of the most intimidating things I've done in my entire life, and that's saying a lot. Before I'd gotten into the school, I saw Clyde, Tweak, and Token. I waved, they waved back uncertainly. I overheard them talking over who I might be. They hadn't recognized me. We weren't that close, but we had gone to school together up until fifth grade. It left me with a bad taste in my mouth.

I sighed and looked down at my schedule. I was coming in during the middle of the second quarter. Catching up on classes was going to be a bitch and a half. I decided I would focus my thoughts on the classes and not worry about the people. The only problem was that I had no clue where any of the classes were and my first class had started ten minutes ago.

"God damnit." I crumpled the schedule and stuffed it in my pocket, making my third round around the second floor with the hopes of finding room 209B. "207, 215, 209, 213... Yeah, that makes sense." I grumbled my hatred toward the nonsensical numbering of the rooms, hands deep in my coat pockets. Like hell had I found my locker. 1568T. What the hell did that even mean? "I give up-" before I could finish, I collided full force with someone. I didn't have a chance to fall, a felt a strong grip on my shoulders right me. "Sorry, I wasn't-"

"Kyle?"

"Huh?" I looked up and came face-to-face with Stan.

"Dude. No way." He let go of my shoulders and stepped back. "You're back? Like, are you actually back?" He was grinning from ear to ear. In an instant, I was too.

"Hell yeah, man." I adjusted my backpack so that the three hundred pound textbooks would stop digging into my spine. There wasn't too much of a point to that because, as soon as I had, Stan had picked me up in a bone-crushing hug. When he set me back on my feet, I had to grab a wall to keep from falling over.

"I missed the hell out of you, man." His tone was almost apologetic. "How was Denver?"

"It sucked balls." I answered, finding it strange how easy it felt to be talking to him again. It was like we'd never stopped talking.

"Yeah? Why?" He glanced toward an open classroom door and motioned for me to follow him.

"It didn't have you." I punched him in the arm. He punched me back. I had to hide the grimace. Damn! Stan was strong!

"Totally gay, dude." He was still grinning though.

"So how's South Park been?"

"Same as usual. Crazy shit happens, no one cares, then Cartman does something stupid and everyone's over it by the next day." Stan turned a corner. I practically tripped over my feet turning around to follow after him. "Why are you carrying all your crap around?"

"Oh. Uh," I rubbed the back of my neck. "I can't find my locker." Stan laughed. "Hey, the numbering on everything is all sorts of fucked up! It's not my fault-"

"Relax, relax! No one can figure it out. What's your number?"

"1568T."

"Lame. You're in the theater department."

"Theater department?"

"Yeah. They've got this school divided up by subjects. There is some weird code that supposedly makes it all make sense, but most of the time you just wind up memorizing where all the shit's at."

"Oh."

"Here, I'll take you over there. I won't get in trouble for being late if I'm showing the new kid around, right?" He laughed and threw an arm around my shoulder.

"Weak, dude." He laughed again.

Stan went over the layout of the school. After he did, it wasn't too hard to understand. He looked over my schedule, told me where I would find my classes and marked all the ones he was in. My locker was inside a storage room outside the recital hall. There were three lockers, a big garbage can, dozens of huge boxes, even more smaller ones, and a ladder propped haphazardly against a wall. The top of the ladder was hidden somewhere in the shadowy mass of the ceiling.

"What the hell are you doing, hippie? Stalking me?" A painfully familiar voice interrupted our conversation. Cartman threw open a pair of double doors, nearly hitting Stan in the head.

"Not on your life, fatass. I was showing Kyle where his locker will be."

"Kyle?" Cartman cocked his head to the side and made a face. "What the fuck are you talking about? Kyle moved, dumbass."

"He came back, fatass. He's standing right here. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass and paid attention to what's around you, you'd have noticed."

"You want to say that again, hippie?" Cartman broadened his shoulders and took a step forward.

"What? Can't understand something that's not sung at you, musical-fag-boy?"

"Ha ha! Very funny. I- Holy shit! It's Kyle!" Cartman forgot about his 'heated debate' with Stan and turned his full attention to me. "What the hell are you doing back here, Jew rat? Isn't your dad busy Jewing honest people out of their money?" Before I had a chance to retort, he crossed his arms over his chest and went on. "I suppose it was only a matter of time before you came crawling back to us and South Park. I can't say I'm surprised. You probably sat around crying like a little fag until your bitch mom decided to bring you back. 'Mommy Mommy! I miss my friends so much!'"

"Shut up, fatass! Like I'd ever miss you."

"Uh huh. Sure. That's why you came to see me during first period on your first day back."

"That was a total coincidence!"

"Sure, sure." He jeered. "I've got to get to class. I don't know what you losers are doing here, but I am here for a quality education." He turned his back and strutted off. "See you at lunch, morons!"

"That's Cartman for 'I'm happy to see you.'" Stan proclaimed when Cartman left.

"I... see..."

"Anyway, this is your locker. You'll have to pick up your own lock because this SPH is cheap as hell. I'd better get back to class. We've got physics together next period, so I'll see you then." He took a step toward the main hall before turning back. "I can't believe you're back, man."

"Me either."

"See you in a bit." Stan was the one to break the sentimental silence and take off.

"Yeah. Save me a seat."

"Got it."

I smiled to myself as I put my books and coat away. I was genuinely happy to be back. Never in my life did I think I would be happy to say that I'd be going to the shitty ass high school in South Park, but I was ecstatic. I couldn't wait for second period to start so I could see Stan again. There was so much I wanted to say and so much I wanted to ask.

I checked my watch. I was officially going to be twenty minutes late to my first class, anatomy and physiology.

"Great." Despite the impending embarrassment, my mood wasn't shaken.

I opened the door of room 209B as quickly and quietly as I could. I hoped to avoid being noticed as much as possible.

"Broflovski?" The woman at the front of the room asked.

"Yeah, sorry. I couldn't find the classroom then I-"

"That's fine. Today is lab prep." She motioned for me to come to her desk. I glanced toward the students. They were all immersed in conversation and writing. I doubted that anyone had seen me come in. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you have any background in anatomy? This is an honors level class. I worry that you will not be able to catch up. I am sure you are a smart boy, but I would hate to see you struggle to adapt even more than you already will. Moving from a big city to South Park is quite the change."

"Oh that's fine. I lived here until I was eleven."

"Did you? All right then. Tomorrow we'll be working on the first of a series of dissections. The class had an odd number until you came along. I'm sure your partner will be glad to know he won't be doing these alone." She directed me to the back of the room.

My partner's face was covered with unkempt, blonde hair. A baggy sweatshirt covered his lanky frame. He sat bent over the lab table, long legs bent awkwardly under the table that was just a bit too short for him. My heart skipped a beat. I knew exactly who it was.

"It looks like you've got a partner after all. Try not to scare this one off too." She tapped her manicured nails on his desk three times to get his attention. The blonde lifted his head and brushed his hair from his face, revealing bright blue eyes and a series of piercings on his ears, one on his lip. That was when the dumbest thing happened. I felt my heart rate skyrocket and felt my face grow warm.

"I've got it, I've got it." The teacher gave him a warning look and left. I stared at Kenny, unable to find a proper greeting. "You look like you saw a ghost. Shouldn't I be the one looking like that?" He grabbed me by my backpack, forcing me to sit on the stool beside him. "When the fuck were you going to tell me that you were coming back?" I took a breath and tried to calm my irrationally frazzled nerves.

"It's crazy, isn't it? We didn't know we'd be moving until, well." I waved my hand, figuratively brushing away the rest of the explanation. Kenny leaned over to my side of the table and pulled a dissection manual in front of me.

"We've got to pretend we're working or some shit." He flipped the book open. Something about him was distractingly cool. "Kyle Broflovski, back in South Park." He grinned, head propped on his hand, eyes locked on me. The teacher was moving back in our direction. Kenny stopped talking. I looked over the dissection manual. Every so often, Kenny would turn the page.

My head was filled with thoughts I couldn't decipher. All I knew was that I wanted to talk to Kenny, but every time I looked up and tried to, I'd catch him looking at me and would lose my cool. I had to look back to the dissection manual every time. Once, I heard him laugh under his breath. Before I knew it, the bell rang and class was over. Kenny was the first to his feet.

"See you around, Kyle." He brushed past me and walked out the door without looking back. I stayed at the table, flustered and holding the beat up manual in my hand, having no idea what I was supposed to do with it.

**A/N:I am not sure I am enjoying where this is going. I want Kenny to be super cool, but I do not feel like I accomplished that as well as I would have liked to. Grr. I will have to try harder in the next chapters. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I've got absolutely nothing against Denver. I know absolutely nothing about Denver. Any mention of it is purely for story purposes. I am sure Denver is a lovely place full of lovely people. **

**I do not own South Park or any characters. **

"Welcome to Hell 101. I saved you a seat." Stan's voice greeted me almost instantaneous with my entrance to physics class.

"I don't know if I should thank you." Stan laughed and patted his hand on the desk beside him.

"So how was your first class at the grand old South Park High?" Enthusiasm radiated from everything about him. "You should totally switch over to bio II with me. The class is way easier and the teacher's not a bitch."

"Ms. Johnson is a bitch?"

"Bitches? Are we talking about your mom?"

"God damn it Cartman! I wasn't talking to you." Stan shot back.

"Since when do you do theater?" I asked. Cartman sat to Stan's right, earning an ignored slew of hatred from Kevin Stoley.

"You've got a problem with theater, Jew?" Despite my undying love of arguing with Cartman, I was a bit surprised by his defensive response. For once, I was legitimately just asking a question.

"Chill, dude. Ike's totally into theater. I think it's cool."

"Oh." Cartman scoffed and crossed his arms on top of his desk. "The Canadian's out of diapers now?"

"Yeah, dude. It's been five years."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean, fatass?"

"Jews might be crafty, but you're not the brightest star of David in the sky."

"Like you're one to talk." I rolled my eyes.

"I decided to bless the beautiful world of theatre with my talent back in the seventh grade." Before Cartman could go on, Stan cut in.

"As if anyone could see Cartman doing something other than theatrics."

"You want to go? Because I'm ready whenever you are." I rolled my eyes again and leaned back in my seat. It looked like Stan had taken my spot in bantering with Cartman at every chance. It was kind of strange. All the same, I couldn't help but laugh.

"So why is it that you guys moved back to South Park?" Stan asked. "I mean, it's not like there is some great place for your dad to work. Denver's got way more shit."

"Well, that's kind of a long story." I pretended I was interested in getting my textbook out. "Nothing all that interesting." I opened my book to the page written on the board, glad to death that I'd taken physics the year before. I could feel Stan's questioning stare on me the whole time. "Legal stuff. I don't really get it." I lied. Stan nodded, seeming to buy that.

"We're glad to have you back, man. It hasn't been the same without you."

"Okay everyone. Hand in your homework. Time to get down to business."

The first day at school had gone off without a hitch. The classes were all doable. I hardly went ten minutes without launching into some conversation with Stan. Even Cartman and I talked for a while. It was, simply put, nice. It was a lot better than my first day at the elementary school in Denver.

I set my backpack on the chair of my desk. Stan dropped it under the chair and dropped on to the bed.

"Man. Talk about Deja Vu."

"Yeah."

"So what's Denver like?" Stan asked, propping his head up on his hand. While waiting for me to talk, he looked at the new posters hung up on the wall. Every so often, he'd comment on something he approved or disapproved of.

"I fucking hated it, dude."

"Seriously?" Stan's attention snapped back to me in an instant. "Why?" His admiration of big cities showed in his voice.

"Everyone is a dick. Everyone thinks they're hot shit." I sat on the bed and sighed. "Every time I thought I had met someone who was worth talking to, they'd turn into a shithead before the end of the week." I shrugged. There were plenty of stories to tell, but I didn't much feel like sitting around listing off every bad experience and sob story.

"That majorly sucks, dude."

"There were good things too."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Stan nodded once or twice. "You'll have to tell me more about it some time."

"Yeah." I nodded and yawned. "So what's the story been here?"

"You're asking me to recap five years? I can't tell you much more than I already told you." He laughed. "Wendy and I are together. Bebe and Cartman had a thing for a while. It ended pretty quick, though. Kenny has... probably slept with everyone in the school aside from Wendy. Butters had a girlfriend for a while, but she moved. Ms. Garrison got married."

"Oh."

"Yeah..." Stan and I exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

"How has Kenny been?" I asked, finding myself trying to be casual. I kicked myself inwardly for that. There was no reason to act weird when talking about him. "He's only in one of my classes, so I haven't had much of a chance to ask him myself." Why did I need to justify myself?

"He's been..." Stan rocked his head back and forth then shrugged. "Same old Kenny, really. Some shit happened with him and his parents a while back. He's been busy with work so we haven't seen much of him lately."

"Awh man. That's harsh."

"Yeah. That guy deals with a lot of shit." Stan rose to his feet and stretched. "You got anything to eat around here?"

"Probably." I stood up too. "My mom probably went shopping earlier today to pick something up." Stan and I hadn't gotten half way down the steps before my mom appeared.

"Stan!" She hugged him and bombarded him with question after question. Stan answered, gracious and genuine. I snuck off to the kitchen and found some frozen pizza. I threw it into the oven and walked back into the living room.

"I prefer baseball to football, but I think I'll be fine doing both."

"Okay, but make sure school is your top priority."

"You've got it, Mrs. Broflovski."

"It's great seeing you again. I'm going to go visit your mother. It's been ages!" My mom kept talking even as she walked out the door. Her excitement was contagious.

The rest of the afternoon consisted of Stan and I eating half of what my mom bought, discussing the crap they put on TV, and pretending we were actually concerned with getting homework done. By the time he left, it was almost ten.

I rubbed my eyes and sat at my desk, opening up my books seriously for the first time that night. The first thing I had to look forward to the next morning would be a dissection immediately followed by a physics test. Those two things were piled on top of the level of homework someone would expect from being halfway through the second quarter. I let out my breath and wrote my name at the top of the paper. There was no point in waiting any longer to start.

"Hey Kyle?" Ike knocked on my door before walking in. "Are you busy?"

"Nope. What's up?" I hid my empty paper from my brother and turned to face him. He'd been distraught by the move since it was announced. I wanted to know how he was doing.

"I want to go back home." He spoke quietly, lip quivering. I jumped up to hug him. He took a few shaky breaths before stepping back and making a face.

"Were the kids assholes?"

"No."

"Is your teacher decent?"

"Yeah. She's nice. It's just... It's not the same. I miss Erika and Julian. I miss my old teacher. I miss my room." Ike sat down on my bed, head in his hands.

I knew there wasn't much I could say to comfort him. Moving and leaving everything behind was tough, almost impossible. Especially for someone his age. We talked for a long time, worked out a few ideas about joining a sports team and getting involved with clubs, and set up a Skype account for him.

By the time I'd said goodnight to him and finished my homework, the sun had already started to poke through the night clouds. I packed my books and climbed into bed for the remaining two hours and forty eight minutes before my alarm went off.

Getting ready for school was hard. Making it to school on time was harder. I stuffed my things into my locker and looked around the storage room. My gaze fell on the ladder. With ten minutes before class started and exhaustion having sufficiently torn down my usual filter, I wandered toward the ladder and looked up. Barely noticeable in the shadows was the outlines of a platform. Curiosity got the better of me and I climbed up. At the top was a spare room filled with old furniture. The most attractive feature was the couch.

I leaned against the platform for a while before climbing back down.

"Let's make a deal." I mumbled to myself, adjusting my backpack. "If you nail the physics test, you get to skip gym and take a nap." I nodded in agreement with my self-proposed deal. It sounded fair enough to me.

I tried to shake out the last of my yawning before I walked into the room. I was glad to see that I was not one of the last to enter the room. With five minutes before the first period bell, the classroom was only a little over half way full. The smell of formaldehyde hit me hard enough to make me gag.

"Shit dude." I held my hand over my mouth and nose and made my way to the back table as quickly as possible. Quiet laughter met my ears. I knew in an instant whose laughter it was.

"You look bright eyed and fucking bushy tailed, hm?" Kenny asked, a grin on his face. Hair covered his eyes. He sat with ease beside the partly rotted frog that lay pinned on the tray in front of him. I scoffed and took a seat, hand unmoved.

"I want all of you to be aware that this will count as a third of your final exam grade for the term." Ms. Johnson announced. "It has been on the syllabus since day one, so I expect you all to be prepared to identify every organ listed in the manual when asked."

"What?" I choked on the word, barely able to keep my volume down. I did not want to draw her attention. I didn't. But that did not relax me. Sure. I'd studied the manual well enough, but I sincerely doubted my ability to actually find the organs. I was expecting something like I'd done last year in Denver. We had a demonstration then did dissections on the computer. At the end, we had a fill in the blank diagram and were done and out. I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. I didn't care too much about the smell anymore. It was far from the most upsetting thing in the room.

"You can begin whenever you're ready. If I catch any of you messing around, I will give you a zero for the day and see to it that you are suspended." She sat in her desk and motioned for us to start. I lifted one of the knives and turned it over in my gloved hand. I leaned forward to look at the instructions on the book. When I did, Kenny caught my hand in his and, with his other hand, took the knife. I turned to him, confused. He tapped the edge of the blade against his lip, blue eyes reflecting the smile that had yet to leave his face.

"I-I could do it." I averted my eyes. In an instant, concern filled me. Did he think I would mess up?

"I know you can." He made the first cut with no hesitation.

"So then...?"

"I've been looking forward to cutting this fucker's guts out for three weeks." He reached a hand out. "Pin?"

"Here." I set one in his hand.

"You'd probably do it better than I could-"

"I don't think that!" Kenny shrugged, unfazed.

"Still, you wouldn't have as much fun." He stabbed the knife in farther than needed and doused my left arm with frog chemical goo.

"Sick!" I pulled my arm back, horrified. Kenny was biting his tongue so hard in order to keep from laughing that I thought his piercing would come off.

"Point and fucking case." He snickered when he had suppressed the laughter. I sat back in my seat and passed him whatever he needed after that. Especially since I could still feel the frog goo seeping through my clothes, I was not planning on arguing Kenny for a second on cutting the stinking frog. Thirty minutes passed with no issue.

"All right. By now you should all be done with the dissection. I'm going to come around. You will each get three questions. I expect you both to be able to answer." This was said with a pointed direction toward Clyde and Token. Clyde lowered his head and whispered something to Token who only shrugged. I looked to Kenny. He remained unfazed, merely playing with his lip ring.

I watched with rising anticipation as Ms. Johnson grilled student after student. I tried to listen in on the questions asked to narrow down the possible questions we might be asked. When I heard the questions repeated, I knew there was no hope of being able to guess what might be asked. I turned back to the frog and tried to point out each of the organs. At that point, I'd be surprised if I could point out the damn eyes.

"All right, boys." Ms. Johnson stood in front of our table, grade book in hand. "Kidneys. Kyle?" She gestured toward the frog. I bit my lip and looked over the innards. I felt someone grab my hand and move it to the middle section of the frog.

"We have to both show we know the answer, Kyle." Kenny's grin was audible on his voice.

"Very funny, Kenny." Ms. Johnson sighed and named off the other two organs. Kenny moved my hand to the proper organ each time. "Nicely done, boys." She scribbled something in her book and moved on to the next table. Kenny released my hand. The minute she was out of earshot, I turned to him.

"You saved my life, dude."

"Did I?" Kenny put on a face of faux surprise before laughing under his breath. Seconds later, the bell rang. "Then I guess you owe me, don't you?" He stripped off his gloves, patted me on the shoulder, and left.

Needless to say, the physics test had nothing on that dissection. Distracted as I was, I finished it with time to spare. By the time the bell rang, thoughts were rolling through my head endlessly. I didn't so much as consider going to gym, though I did change out of my contaminated sweater the minute I got the chance.

I returned to my locker and waited until I knew I could ascend the ladder without getting caught. The second I had the chance, I did. As I settled onto the couch that was to be my makeshift bed for the next hour, only one thought was on my head. That was Kenny's hand on my hand. My tired mind played with thought after thought and those thoughts carried me into sleep.

**A/N: I am trying to introduce a lot of stories to go in the story and I feel like I am introducing too much at once, making it too obvious what is going to happen, and that it feels forced. Let me know if that is going on if you want. That'd be sweet. Feedback is always totally appreciated. Thank you so much to those of you who have said something already. It made my day! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to the next one. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Uh oh. I am sensing that there is going to be some angst in this fanfic. Keep me in check, guys. Yell at me if things go out of character or are too cliché in a bad way. Watch my back for me. **

**I do not own South Park or any characters.**

"Dude! Where were you?" Stan dropped his tray down next to mine at lunch. I had hoped he wouldn't notice my absence at gym class.

"Oh, well-"

"You were probably at the gym, huh?"

"What?"

"Yeah, we're doing drivers ed so we're up in room 318A."

"Oh." Of course it was another absurdly numbered room name.

"Mr. Stevens thought that would be a problem." Stan shrugged and stuffed half the school's sorry excuse for a hamburger into his mouth in one bite.

"Impressive." Stan said something in response, but it was impossible to understand. He downed the child-sized milk carton and wiped his mouth.

"So are you planning on joining anything here? You totally kicked ass before."

"Dude, I was like, ten."

"You still kicked ass."

"I'll think about it."

"Stan?" A female voice spoke from behind me. I turned to see a very grown-up looking Wendy. Had Wendy not been right behind me, I would've congratulated him. "You've been avoiding me for two days now." I changed my mind about congratulating him. "What's up with that?"

"I haven't been avoiding you. I've just been caught up in catching up with Kyle."

"You blew off our date night last night. You didn't even call." I kept my head down, eating, and pretending that I was not there. Somewhere farther in the background, I heard Bebe shout something about this not being the first time. "She's right, Stan. You're making too many excuses. If you don't want to be together, you need to tell me now."

"Wendy, chill." Stan rose to his feet with his hands up in a show of surrender.

"You have mustard all over your shirt."

"Oh." Stan put his hands down to observe the new stain. "Great."

"And don't tell me to 'chill,' Stan Marsh! You have no right."

"Wendy, I've been busy. You know that. With sports and student council, I haven't had time to do anything."

"I'm doing the same thing and can still manage to keep my spot on the newspaper and return your text messages."

"Can we not do this right now? I said I was sorry."

"No you didn't."

"Well I am."

"Stan, I bend over backwards for you and you can't even-" Cartman's laughter cut her off. "Cartman, I swear to God, if you make one sex joke, I am going to cram this tray down your fat throat!"

"That's not very lady-like, Wendy." Cartman was still laughing when he sat beside Stan.

"This is serious, dude. Not now." Stan practically whispered to Cartman. Cartman rolled his eyes and unwrapped his hamburger. "Wendy, I care about you a lot. Sometimes I can't keep up, though. You know that."

"I'm sick of it. Why do I always have to be your second priority? You skip dates or phone calls or texts for sports, for clubs, for your friends, but you never skip any of that for me. I feel like a bitch having to say this, but you need to start showing me that you care, not just saying it. Got it?"

"Look Wendy, I..." Stan sighed and walked around to the other side of the table. "Let's talk in private, all right?" The suggestion seemed to make Wendy happy.

"Thanks, Stan." A smile was audible in her voice. The two walked away together. Stan's lunch sat abandoned. All that was left was an apple and less than a handful of fries.

"I don't know why they bother." Cartman watched the two out the door. "They need to get over themselves." I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what their relationship was like aside from what I'd seen in grade school. After that, there was silence. It was strange. Before, we'd have people from the next room yelling at us to shut up if we were in ten feet of each other. Now, we were sitting across from each other not saying a word.

Cartman had been a huge part of my childhood, even if we had been at each other's throats all the time. Through our arguments, I developed my own beliefs and morals. Even though we never really saw eye to eye, we were still a lot alike. We were still good friends.

I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with the silence. He was still very much the same person, but things had still changed. He and everyone else had grown closer while everyone else and I had grown apart. My hatred of social rejection peaked and I started looking for an excuse to leave.

"Hey Erik!" Butters' cheerful voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Did you hear the news? Kyle's back!"

"Hi Butters." I lifted my hand and watched his face light up. The two of us talked lightheartedly for a bit until Stan came back.

"Hey Butters." Stan lifted up his lunch tray and sighed.

"What's the matter?" Butters asked.

"Nah, nothing. It's just that I'm going to be eating lunch with Wendy from here on out. Sorry dudes."

"You're fucking kidding." Cartman's irritation wasn't even close to playful.

"If I don't start showing Wendy that she's important, she's going to dump me."

"You're so fucking pussy whipped." Cartman crumpled up the hamburger wrapper with more vigor than necessary. Instantly, Butters looked uncomfortable.

"Shut up, Cartman." Stan looked to me and offered an apologetic shrug. There wasn't much left of the lunch period, but I still wished he wasn't leaving. The rest of it was spent with Butters trying to get Cartman to talk about something other than Stan. I was more than happy when it ended.

By the time I got home from school, I was in more of a funk than I thought possible. The first day had gone over so well. While I was still getting excited greetings, I didn't feel like part of the group anymore. I was an outsider who had permission to walk and talk with them in the halls and sit with them in the classrooms. Stan and I talked, but I had no real idea of what was going on in his life. Cartman and I didn't talk and I knew even less of what was going on in his life. And out of the whole group, Kenny and I had been the least close. I didn't have any hope that the two of us would magically become close.

Opening the door didn't help. The minute I walked in, I heard Ike and mom yelling at each other.

"Stop trying to control my life!" He shouted.

"Control your life? I work my butt off to make sure you and your brother are provided for and taken care of and this is the thanks I get?"

"No one asked you to!" Ike shouted and stormed off to his room. I made eye contact with my mother and instantly looked away. There was pure fury in her eyes. I did not want it set on me.

"You need to talk to your brother this instant. I don't know what to do with him. He is being unreasonable." She spoke in a measured tone, barely keeping herself together.

"I'm going up right now." I jogged up the steps and into Ike's room.

"What do you want?" Ike asked, arms crossed over his chest. "Are you going to yell at me too now?"

"No, dude. I'm not going to yell at you." I looked over my shoulder, making sure mom wasn't there before I shut the door. "What happened?"

"The same thing that happens every time I don't praise her for trying to make me into a miniature version of herself."

"Ike..."

"No. Don't give me that." He lifted a hand, looking like he was caught between wanting to punch me and wanting to laugh. "She signed me up for some gay ass flag football team without so much as asking me if I wanted to join."

"So? She's trying to help you find friends and fit in."

"I don't even like sports, Kyle. You know that."

"Dude, what's the problem?"

"You don't see it? You seriously don't see it?" Ike shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"Out with it already."

"All mom ever does is tell us what to do, what to think, what to say, what to believe, who to talk to, and what to be. You just go along with it. You're so scared that she's going to yell at you that you'd agree to anything. Something like this wouldn't even bother you."

"Don't you think you're overreacting?" I kept the defensive edge from my voice, more than a little aggravated by his speech.

"No, I don't. I think you're a push over and you want me to be a push over too."

"I'm not a push over, Ike!"

"Then why did you come in here to talk to me? Because mom told you to. And why are you trying to convince me to not be mad? Because mom told you to."

"It's because you're wrong." I crossed my arms over my chest to reciprocate the hostility he was displaying. Despite that, I hardly felt the confidence I knew he felt.

"Exactly like I said. I'm wrong because I'm not listening to mom."

"Dude, I know that mom can be overbearing and she can be unfair at times, but-"

"But she's looking out for our best interest. Don't you think I've heard her say that before?"

"Ike..."

"You know what would've been great, Kyle? If you had stood up to her once. If you had stood up to her one time and said 'I am not going to listen to your crap' then maybe I wouldn't have to argue with her all the time. You are this perfect son. You're not the smartest or the best at sports, but you're the best because you will literally do anything she says."

"That's not true!"

"It's not? You dated Alexandra just because mom told you that she thought you should. You didn't even like her. You told me all the time that she was annoying and didn't shower enough. And what about Brian? You and him hated each other until mom said that you two should be friends."

"I don't have time to deal with this right now." I turned away.

"You're just going to walk away and pretend I'm wrong, aren't you? You're a total wimp."

"Shut up, Ike." I gritted my teeth and walked to my room, refraining from slamming the door no matter how badly I wanted to. I threw my backpack at my wall and paced. Part of me knew he was right. Stan always said the same kind of thing when we were younger. Part of me refused to believe him. Stan and Ike both had issues with authority. Stan didn't trust him because of his parents, Ike didn't like them because he legitimately was smarter than the majority of them. Especially the ones in South Park.

I knew that if I tried to do my homework then, I would be too frustrated to concentrate. All I wanted to do was call Stan and have him tell me that Ike was wrong, but I knew Stan would agree with Ike. It was infuriating to know that both of them thought I was acting like a little goody goody two shoes. I hated it, but there wasn't anything I could do to change it.

When my legs had gotten sore, I slumped on to the floor and continued the angry tirade in my head until I eventually drifted off into something close to sleep. I knew that time was passing, keeping me from getting my work done on time and guaranteeing another late night. Instead of inspiring me to get up and work, all it did was frustrate me more.

A couple weeks passed. I talked with the gym teacher. He said that since I'd already passed drivers ed back in Denver, I could use the class period as a silent reading or study hall kind of thing. I took him up on that. It helped. I'd get ahead on homework, sleep, or screw around on my phone until class ended. Most of the time, I'd retreat to the room above my locker and enjoy the solitude. It was better to actually be alone than to walk around SPH getting nothing but phoney smiles and awkward, forced conversations.

The only person who actually talked to me was Stan. He was a genuinely good guy, but God knew he had his own issues to deal with.

I wound up joining a few clubs, my favorite being Academic Decathlon, my least favorite being chemistry club. I wanted to drop it, but there were so few members that my dropping the club would lead to it being disbanded, so I stuck around.

Things between Ike and I had gone back to semi-normal. He was allowed to drop the flag football team and convince mom to sign him up for the community theater troupe. He'd met some friends there. Much to my dismay, they shared the same mindset he did. I'd hoped he would wind up meeting someone that would talk him out of back-talking anyone he felt wronged by. Still, it was a million times better than seeing him sit around alone and angry.

"You look kind of zoned out, dude. What's up?" Stan asked. I still walked with him to gym every day. Lots of the time, that walk was filled with last minute questions on unfinished homework assignments. Stan hated being stuck in drivers ed. He'd been driving for two years, albeit illegally. He just couldn't remember the difference between a yellow sign and a red one.

"Nothing, really. I'm just thinking about stuff."

"You sure? You know you can talk to me if something's wrong."

"Thanks dude. It's nothing. I was just trying to remember what happens in chapter four of that one book."

"For that mathlete thing?"

"Yeah. We've got a competition soon."

"Sweet. You think you'll win something?"

"Maybe. The kids here are pretty smart."

"Not smarter than you." Stan nudged me. I laughed.

"Thanks, dude. See you in history."

"Yep. Time to go learn about what to do if there are rocks."

"What?"

"I don't even know." Stan answered honestly before entering the classroom. When he did, I turned and walked back to my locker, more than glad to be able to indulge in my hour long escape from the rest of the school.

I noticed that the ladder had been moved a bit. I'd probably bumped into it when putting my stuff away or slipped it over a bit too far to the right the day before. A few times, I'd gotten worried that someone else had found my spot, but it always wound up being nothing. Janitors cleaned the ladder once, the theater department kids knocked it over when carrying out a storage bin a few times, but no one had ever moved anything in the small room.

I propped the ladder up against the room's floor more securely and ascended. I pulled myself up, ready to indulge in sulking over my lot in life.

"What do we have here?" Laughter rang in the voice. As my eyes adjusted to the darker room, I recognized the form of the person in front of me.

"Kenny?"

"You look like you saw a ghost. Am I that scary?" He walked toward me. For a moment, I felt compelled to take a step back. Kenny noticed this and laughed. He placed his hand on the wall beside me, blocking off three of my four exits, and leaned in. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you're ditching. Though I've got to say, I'm surprised."

"Why?" I could barely find my voice.

"Breaking rules just doesn't seem to be your thing. Aren't you supposed to be perfect?" The Deja Vu evoked by Kenny's words elicited immediate anger.

"Not a chance." I pushed his arm away and crossed my arms over my chest. Kenny's grin broadened.

"Is that so?"

**A/N: Rushed rushed rushed. Ugh. Pacing. I guess I have no concept of it. Regardless, I hope you guys liked it! **


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